


Five More Minutes, Sammy

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Beaches, Brotherly Love, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Dean Winchester, Pre-Series, Wee!chesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:02:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are spending summer vacation on a beach...hunting cursed objects. </p><p>Sammy has recently learned the truth about the family business and Dean feels like he's seeing double, trying to line up the baby brother he knows with this capable young hunter in front of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five More Minutes, Sammy

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】Five More Minutes, Sammy/再过五分钟，Sammy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851254) by [Milfoil_c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milfoil_c/pseuds/Milfoil_c)



"S'posed to be warm," Dean groused, kicking at a seashell, squinting up at the overcast sky. “Right? Summer on a beach, shouldn't there be some, ya know, _sun_?"

"Dean," Sam's voice was muffled as he dug around in a course bush or whatever-the-hell you call stupid plants that try to grow on a cold beach. "Would you just keep looking? Dad said we had to hurry."

Focused as he was, Sam didn’t see the way Dean was looking at him, looking him over, so Dean let his eyes linger; it seemed like stolen glances were the only way Sam let himself be seen these days. Kid needed a haircut. Dean watched the way he shoved his bangs out of his eyes every three seconds like he didn’t even know he was doing it anymore. Dean watched him reach for something and saw how, skinny as he was, his shoulders were still stretching out the fabric of his old ratty t-shirt, and he remembered when that shirt was new to _him_ , gotta be six, seven years ago now. And Dean let himself feel the guilt of it, of letting his little brother run around looking like a hippy or a hobo in worn-out clothes two sizes two small for him, let it all crash over him for only, oh, the fifth time that day. Okay so they were spending summer break on a beach, sure, that was pretty cool. But of course it was only cuz they were on a hunt. The wrong kind of hunt. Sammy should be searching for exotic seashells and watching his big brother chase bikinis, storing up tips for the future.

But Sam, his little Sammy, had turned so serious this last year. Ever since...well. Dean kicked another shell into the water and shoved the lid down tight on his simmering anger. Sammy wasn't supposed to know about this stuff. Not yet. Sammy wasn't supposed to be able to point out the differences between B horror movies and reality that went beyond the bad acting and the fake boobs. Wasn’t supposed to be able to say when and why the blood and gore scenes looked wrong. It was the first time in his life that Dean had yelled at Dad, and he’d carried the bruises from it until Sam got suspicious that he was still wearing long sleeves in July.

"Sam, hey, Sammy!" He called. And Sam might be insisting on _Sam_ from everyone else now but he still popped his head up at Dean's voice and came trotting over to him. "Hey, check it out, kiddo. What do you suppose this is?"

Sam cocked his head, squinting down at the corpse of the strange multi-legged thing Dean had found. Hesitantly he lifted the stick he was carrying and prodded at it. "Dead," Sammy proclaimed.

"Real freakin' genius I got for a brother," Dean muttered. "I know _that_ , weirdo. What was it before it was dead? Some kinda crab? Hey, Sammy, think it's an alien?"

" _Dean_ ," Sam's eyes were about to roll out of his head. "D'you think it's a _cursed_ dead alien crab thingy? No? Okay let's keep looking."

“ _Sam-my_ ,” Dean groaned, and grabbed for Sam's stick. They played tug-of-war over it for a minute until Dean tickled Sam and Sam squealed and dropped it. Dean pivoted and flung it out over the water and they both watched it sink under the waves.

"You jerk! I was using that!" Sam turned on Dean but he was ready, got his little brother in a headlock and wrestled him down into the sand, making sure they landed plenty far from the weird dead crab alien whatever.

Ten minutes later with sand in their ears and mouths and hair, Dean finally let Sam up, laughing at the way he spluttered and shook himself like a dog. 

"Dad said--"

Dean pushed him back down, jerked up his shirt and blew a raspberry on his stomach. Then he was up like a shot, sprinting down the beach and into the ocean.

"Jesus Christ!" He yelped, his feet quickly going numb between the cold water and the sharp stones, but he kept going. "Come on in, Sammy, the water's fine!"

Sam didn't believe him, of course, and stood just beyond the ocean's reach with arms crossed over his chest like a prissy little girl, glaring. Dean laughed as the waves lapped over the hems of his shorts and splashed his hands through the water, washing the sand off his skin.

"It's not funny, _Dean_! We're supposed to be looking--"

"I know we are, Sammy, but this is more fun! Come on, dude, live a little!"

Sam huffed. "How can you say that when you know people are dying cuz of this ghost! More people might die! We have to--"

"We have to, yeah okay, I know that, Sam. But five minutes, Sammy! Come on, be a kid for five more minutes!"

"I'm not a kid," Dean heard him mutter as he kicked off his sandals. Dean splashed forward and grabbed Sam by the hand and hauled him into the water. The shriek his kid brother let out when he landed on his ass was worth waking up to a wet willy — Sammy’s favorite revenge these last couple weeks. They ran and shouted and splashed each other until they were wet to the skin and shivering, blue lips stretched in unselfconscious grins.

They found the wrecked dinghy an hour before the sun sank into the water and they set it alight. Sam's eyes went wide and awed as the ghost materialized and howled out its death cry while they watched. Dean slung an arm around Sam's shoulders, nudging him with his hip. "And that's why they pay us the big bucks, huh, Sammy?"

Sam grinned up at him, bright and gap-toothed, his eyes reflecting the bonfire as he tucked himself in against Dean's side. "Me, maybe. You just stood there looking pretty while I did all the work."

"The mouth on this kid," Dean grumbled, knuckling his brother's head. "Swear I raised him better'n this."

Sam let Dean hold him close for another handful of heartbearts, longer than usual these days, before he pulled away and dug his toe into the sand and said they should get back, should call Dad and say it was done.

“Yeah, dude, we will. Just, what’s the rush, huh, Sammy? Let’s hang out here for five more minutes.”

Sam turned his back on Dean and scuffed his feet through the sand, leaving long tracks and bitching about wanting to get back to translating the book Uncle Bobby had lent him.

Dean didn't answer, just watched this stretched-out, high-strung, busy-headed young man who used to be his baby brother, and wondered where the last twelve years had gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/546057.html?thread=77350153#t77350153)
> 
> Theme = Summer. Prompt: Supernatural, wee!chesters, a day at the beach


End file.
